First some anonymous comment replies, because I've forgotten to do it for like the last 20 posts...
Cleo: Thanks for the Underwood-love!
Pogo: That painting was actually painted by me. I'll post a decent pic of it if I can remember...
Anonymous 1 from the first car post: I got the Cthulhu sticker on ebay, while trying to find this one I saw of a t-rex eating a Darwin and a Jesus Fish (and inside the t-rex it said, "shut up").
Anonymous 2: Glad I could make you laugh. :D And the alethiometer is still in my purse.
Spooky's Darling: you are correct in the pronunciation of "Mich," since it's technically just "me." But you could go either way, since it also kind of refers to Michiru. :D
Em: Not creepy at all. I'll still be your nanny if you want. ;)
ArachneMorte: That was my pumpkin pie; thanks for the compliment!!
Almost ran out of vitamins* this weekend.
But new Vitamin-Friend is a muffin, and not only did he come through for me, he also DELIVERS. We have fallen into a system in which the only contact we have is through texting, and all transactions are conducted via my mailbox.
This became problematic Sunday night when I went to retrieve my prize at around 11.00. A dense fog had settled over Bergen County and my driveway looked like a scene from a horror film. And OF COURSE when I need to go to the mailbox, the raccoons decide to start some kind riot out the front garden.
Little Bro #2 texted me on Friday to see if I wanted to go see some band with him on Saturday. Since I hardly ever get to hang out with the Little Bros, I of course said yes. We had a good dinner (omg the ranchhouse salad was DELICIOUS) and the band was ok, and I was reminded why I never go out anymore because the place was filled with loud girls in offensively short skirts, and awkwardly drunk guys in lots of plaid.
We got home around midnight, and I went to bed with the intention of fleeing Dad's house before they could try and convince/guilt me into going to church with them. This plan failed, because Step-Mom woke me up Sunday morning to tell me that Little Bro #2 was playing the drums in the church's "band", and would I like to come to church with them to see him play?
I'm completely tolerant of other people's religions. As far as I'm concerned, there is no right or wrong choice of religion. They're all more or less the same basic principles--something large and immortal created the planet and everything in it; and you shouldn't do bad things like killing people and stealing, and you'll can get some kind of reward in the next life. And I think it's great if you've found a faith that really makes you feel happy and fulfilled and junk.
I'm not sure about everyone else, but I feel really awkward around other people's religions. It's like going over to someone's house on their laundry day, and sitting in their living room when the family's knickers are hanging up to dry on the clothes horse and on the radiators (probably not such a common occurrence in the States, but I'm sure you can imagine how awkward that would be...). You're sitting in your friend's living room just trying to hang out and have a good time, and trying to look anywhere but at your friend's mom's bright red Victoria's Secret wonderbra.
That's how I feel when I go out to eat with Dad & Co., and they say grace in the middle of the restaurant. Or when I'm spending the night and they do the family praying thing before bed (I hid in the bathroom for like 20 minutes Saturday night until I was certain they'd gone to bed). On Thanksgiving, I got the Evil Eye because I automatically crossed myself after Dad finished saying grace over Thanksgiving dinner (I cant help it; it's like a nervous tic).
A couple of friends have said they feel the same way, and they actually opined that it's because we were raised strictly Catholic. We've been conditioned to believe that all other religions are full of heresy. Especially the Protestants.
The thing I dislike more than my father saying grace in the middle of a restaurant, more than the nightly family prayer, more than the forlorn look of disappointment he gives my religious jewelry, is going to church with them on Sundays.
I can't handle it.
|so I just sink into my chair and pretend I'm invisible|
The informality of the Service (I got told off for calling it "Mass"), the lack of any kind of art on the walls or windows, the constant leaping out of the chairs with "halleluja!" and "praise the LORD!!" from random churchgoers, the religious pop-rock, the powerpoint presentation projected over the cross, the table of coffee and breakfast pastries that people hang around during the service (blasphemers!!), the way they call their minister "Pastor" instead of THE pastor (that drives me extra nuts; I don't know why...).
I have nothing against it, but experiencing someone else's religion up close and personal like that is difficult. It's just so completely alien to me, and it goes against everything I was raised to believe about the practice of religion. YOU PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE SO OBVIOUSLY ENJOYING YOURSELVES.
|we're going to be SMOTE because y'all are having fun|
And it proves that the Catholic teachings have truly been perfected as far as Classical Conditioning, because even though I'm not a very devout Catholic and I don't go to Mass very often, attending my father's church always makes me want to run screaming across the street to their town's Catholic church and curl into a ball at the priest's feet, begging for forgiveness and psychically absorbing the nice calm, quiet, and very pious hymns.
I had one of Palestrina's madrigals playing on my ipod for most of the drive home, to make me relax.
I guess because religion really is such a personal thing? But it still bothers me that I get so bothered by daddy's church. If that makes sense.